Disclaimer: Harry Potter... not mine(A/N: This disclaimer... not mine either)
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Harry didn't know how long he was locked in his cupboard. He did know that after the Dursleys would occasionally unlock the cupboard door, open it a crack, and shove in a little bit of toast, or cold soup, or the like. He also knew that they would, morning and night, let him out for him to use the bathroom. But the days blurred together in the windowless cupboard.
Harry also knew that he now had a problem. Sure, being locked inside a cupboard for who knows how long is always of course a problem. But he also now had no coffee and no ice to keep him awake. He also had no chores. But Harry didn't really mind the chores too much, they kept his mind off the dreams.
Yes, the dreams. They made his *life* something of a nightmare. He did his best to only sleep during the day, when the Death Eaters weren't active, and only Cedric was there to torment him.
He felt so guilty about Cedric's death, and having to relive the experience every time he tried to sleep did anything but help ease Harry's pain. He knew it was all his fault. If only he hadn't told Cedric to take the Cup with him....
He sighed. Then he yawned. He yawned constantly. And now... there was only the knife to keep him awake.
Yes, the blessed knife Harry had so conveniently kept in his pocket. Harry didn't use it more than he had to, although he did rather enjoy the pain it brought. He knew that eventually, if he ever got out, people would see its marks and question him. That was the last thing he wanted.
Although... no one would question me if I just finished myself off already. Ha! No one could question me ever again. It's not like I don't deserve to die... I'd be doing everyone a favor, really. Seeing as how I caused Cedric to die, caused Voldemort to return, am nothing but a burden, really, nobody wants me. I haven't a proper home or family or anything.
But something always stopped him from doing it.
Harry knew it was night now, and couldn't stand the thought of going to sleep. He knew he would soon, though, if he didn't do something about it.
Harry rolled up his sleeve and took out the knife. The crack under the door was still pitch black, so he knew it was far from morning. He'd learned through experimenting that an actual cut kept him awake far longer than just a little prick. He brought the knife up to his arm(to where a t-shirt could cover it), swallowed, and....
Pain immediately coursed through him. Harry breathed heavily, savoring the pain. If he was lucky, this one might last him through the night.
***************************************
Hours later, Harry Potter sat against the back of his cupboard, staring up at the dark above him, focusing on the lingering throbbing pain in his right arm.
Aunt Petunia opened the cupboard door, the morning freeing of Harry. He got out, did his business, and started to return to his cupboard.
"Oh no you don't," said Uncle Vernon, and he pushed Harry into the kitchen. He handed him a piece of paper and a pen.
"You write to that godfather of yours," he commanded. "Tell him your summer's going fine and that we're treating you all right." He looked over Harry's shoulder to be sure he followed his commands.
Now Harry hadn't written to Sirius all summer. He knew, that, far from reassuring Sirius, as Uncle Vernon intended, the letter sent to say everything was going fine would instead clue him in to the truth. Without mentioning this, Harry did as was instructed, and sent the letter off with Hedwig, under the careful eye of Uncle Vernon.
****************************************
A while more went by while Harry was locked up in his cupboard.
*Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.
"Where are we?" he said.
Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.
They were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible...*
Harry was awoken by Aunt Petunia's shriek. He heard Uncle Vernon run into the living room, where he gave a roar of fury.
"YOU!" he roared. Harry took the sock out of his mouth, and listened.
"NO! YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIM! WE REFUSE!" he shouted at somebody. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
There was a moment where Harry couldn't hear anything, then he heard shuffling steps outside the cupboard door.
"Alohamora," he heard the voice he recognized as Mr. Weasley's say, and the cupboard door flew open.
"Harry!" he said, and helped him up. He saw Ron standing behind him, and caught a glimpse of the twins running upstairs.
"Fred and George are getting your trunk. Lucky Ron remembered you used to have to sleep in here," said Mr. Weasley, with disapproval at his voice. He raised it slightly so that the Dursleys could hear him scolding them.
"Hey, mate," said Geroge, coming down the stairs with Fred, Hedwig, and his trunk.
"Come on, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, pushing Harry toward the busted up fireplace. "Fred, you first with the trunk."
Fred tossed a bit of floo powder into the fire, shouted "The Burrow!" and vanished with the trunk.
Harry went next, his voice a bit croaky from not being used.
With a *whoosh* he was off. Very soon, he was at The Burrow.
"Hello, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry noticed a slight look of concern on her face. Just then, Ron came through the fireplace. A moment later, Mr. Weasley apparated.
"I think maybe Harry should get some sleep," said Mr. Weasley to Mrs. Weasley.
"No, I don't-" Harry began, but was cut off by another yawn.
"Really, Harry dear. Ron, show him up to your room," Mrs. Weasley said kindly, and off they went. "Oh, hello, Hermione."
Hermione had just come from the next room.
"She came this morning," Ron filled in.
"Hello, Harry," she said.
"Show Harry up to your room, now," said Mrs. Weasley again, and the three of them headed upstairs.
"So...how was your summer?" Ron asked nervously to Harry. He replied with a yawn.
"You look awfully tired, Harry," said the clever Hermione. "Have you been having dreams again?"
Harry yawned and shrugged. *I wish I could stop yawning!*
"Well... perhaps Ron's mum could make you some dreamless sleep potion?" Hermioe suggested. "I'll go ask her." She turned around and headed downstairs before anyone could respond.
Ron shrugged at Harry in a helpless sort of way, silently thanking his lucky stars Hermione had come up with the idea. He surely wouldn't have.
Great, now the Weasleys are going to worry about me.
Hey, they wouldn't worry about me if I were dead.
Deep in the back of his mind he was grateful for it, though. It was just what he'd been longing for all summer, and it would be close to impossible for him to get any sleep at all with the Weasleys without it.
Hermione came back.
"Mrs. Weasley's brewing up some potion right now," she said.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, wondering what to say.
"So... how long did they keep you in that cupboard?" he asked finally.
"I dunno," said Harry quietly. "Since... day after my birthday."
"Wow, Harry, that's been eight days," said Ron.
They sat quietly a few more minutes.
"Why'd you come get me?" Harry asked.
"Oh," said Ron. "Well, Professor Lupin sent us an owl, saying you sent Snuffles a letter saying everything was all right, and that Snuffles told you you can't owl him this summer, and that you hadn't, except for that. So they reckoned that something was probably up, and that the muggles probably made you write it..."
Harry nodded glumly. Then he forced a smile.
"'S okay, though," he said, hoping his smile looked convincing. Ron smiled back, so Harry figured it probably did.
"Dumbledore finished with the Burrow just this morning," Ron said happily. "Got all sorts of spells on it, enchantments, to protect you."
Harry felt another pang of guilt. The Weasleys... him being here was endangering them.
Mrs. Weasley entered the room then, with a goblet of dreamless sleep potion in her hands.
"Here you go, Harry dear," she said, giving him the goblet and a motherly smile. "Arthur apparated to Diagon Alley and got some; it takes awhile to brew."
Harry smiled at her.
She gave him another motherly smile. "Drink it all, now. Come on."
Harry tipped his head back and drank it all, eager for some dreamless sleep. Yet a part of him couldn't help hoping that he might not wake up.
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A/N: Review, if you wish.
To my reviewers: japangirlcarley24, velondra, and punkpixie87: thank you all!
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Harry didn't know how long he was locked in his cupboard. He did know that after the Dursleys would occasionally unlock the cupboard door, open it a crack, and shove in a little bit of toast, or cold soup, or the like. He also knew that they would, morning and night, let him out for him to use the bathroom. But the days blurred together in the windowless cupboard.
Harry also knew that he now had a problem. Sure, being locked inside a cupboard for who knows how long is always of course a problem. But he also now had no coffee and no ice to keep him awake. He also had no chores. But Harry didn't really mind the chores too much, they kept his mind off the dreams.
Yes, the dreams. They made his *life* something of a nightmare. He did his best to only sleep during the day, when the Death Eaters weren't active, and only Cedric was there to torment him.
He felt so guilty about Cedric's death, and having to relive the experience every time he tried to sleep did anything but help ease Harry's pain. He knew it was all his fault. If only he hadn't told Cedric to take the Cup with him....
He sighed. Then he yawned. He yawned constantly. And now... there was only the knife to keep him awake.
Yes, the blessed knife Harry had so conveniently kept in his pocket. Harry didn't use it more than he had to, although he did rather enjoy the pain it brought. He knew that eventually, if he ever got out, people would see its marks and question him. That was the last thing he wanted.
Although... no one would question me if I just finished myself off already. Ha! No one could question me ever again. It's not like I don't deserve to die... I'd be doing everyone a favor, really. Seeing as how I caused Cedric to die, caused Voldemort to return, am nothing but a burden, really, nobody wants me. I haven't a proper home or family or anything.
But something always stopped him from doing it.
Harry knew it was night now, and couldn't stand the thought of going to sleep. He knew he would soon, though, if he didn't do something about it.
Harry rolled up his sleeve and took out the knife. The crack under the door was still pitch black, so he knew it was far from morning. He'd learned through experimenting that an actual cut kept him awake far longer than just a little prick. He brought the knife up to his arm(to where a t-shirt could cover it), swallowed, and....
Pain immediately coursed through him. Harry breathed heavily, savoring the pain. If he was lucky, this one might last him through the night.
***************************************
Hours later, Harry Potter sat against the back of his cupboard, staring up at the dark above him, focusing on the lingering throbbing pain in his right arm.
Aunt Petunia opened the cupboard door, the morning freeing of Harry. He got out, did his business, and started to return to his cupboard.
"Oh no you don't," said Uncle Vernon, and he pushed Harry into the kitchen. He handed him a piece of paper and a pen.
"You write to that godfather of yours," he commanded. "Tell him your summer's going fine and that we're treating you all right." He looked over Harry's shoulder to be sure he followed his commands.
Now Harry hadn't written to Sirius all summer. He knew, that, far from reassuring Sirius, as Uncle Vernon intended, the letter sent to say everything was going fine would instead clue him in to the truth. Without mentioning this, Harry did as was instructed, and sent the letter off with Hedwig, under the careful eye of Uncle Vernon.
****************************************
A while more went by while Harry was locked up in his cupboard.
*Harry felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; his hand let go of the Triwizard Cup at last. He raised his head.
"Where are we?" he said.
Cedric shook his head. He got up, pulled Harry to his feet, and they looked around.
They were standing in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible...*
Harry was awoken by Aunt Petunia's shriek. He heard Uncle Vernon run into the living room, where he gave a roar of fury.
"YOU!" he roared. Harry took the sock out of his mouth, and listened.
"NO! YOU'RE NOT TAKING HIM! WE REFUSE!" he shouted at somebody. "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
There was a moment where Harry couldn't hear anything, then he heard shuffling steps outside the cupboard door.
"Alohamora," he heard the voice he recognized as Mr. Weasley's say, and the cupboard door flew open.
"Harry!" he said, and helped him up. He saw Ron standing behind him, and caught a glimpse of the twins running upstairs.
"Fred and George are getting your trunk. Lucky Ron remembered you used to have to sleep in here," said Mr. Weasley, with disapproval at his voice. He raised it slightly so that the Dursleys could hear him scolding them.
"Hey, mate," said Geroge, coming down the stairs with Fred, Hedwig, and his trunk.
"Come on, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, pushing Harry toward the busted up fireplace. "Fred, you first with the trunk."
Fred tossed a bit of floo powder into the fire, shouted "The Burrow!" and vanished with the trunk.
Harry went next, his voice a bit croaky from not being used.
With a *whoosh* he was off. Very soon, he was at The Burrow.
"Hello, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. Harry noticed a slight look of concern on her face. Just then, Ron came through the fireplace. A moment later, Mr. Weasley apparated.
"I think maybe Harry should get some sleep," said Mr. Weasley to Mrs. Weasley.
"No, I don't-" Harry began, but was cut off by another yawn.
"Really, Harry dear. Ron, show him up to your room," Mrs. Weasley said kindly, and off they went. "Oh, hello, Hermione."
Hermione had just come from the next room.
"She came this morning," Ron filled in.
"Hello, Harry," she said.
"Show Harry up to your room, now," said Mrs. Weasley again, and the three of them headed upstairs.
"So...how was your summer?" Ron asked nervously to Harry. He replied with a yawn.
"You look awfully tired, Harry," said the clever Hermione. "Have you been having dreams again?"
Harry yawned and shrugged. *I wish I could stop yawning!*
"Well... perhaps Ron's mum could make you some dreamless sleep potion?" Hermioe suggested. "I'll go ask her." She turned around and headed downstairs before anyone could respond.
Ron shrugged at Harry in a helpless sort of way, silently thanking his lucky stars Hermione had come up with the idea. He surely wouldn't have.
Great, now the Weasleys are going to worry about me.
Hey, they wouldn't worry about me if I were dead.
Deep in the back of his mind he was grateful for it, though. It was just what he'd been longing for all summer, and it would be close to impossible for him to get any sleep at all with the Weasleys without it.
Hermione came back.
"Mrs. Weasley's brewing up some potion right now," she said.
They sat quietly for a few minutes, wondering what to say.
"So... how long did they keep you in that cupboard?" he asked finally.
"I dunno," said Harry quietly. "Since... day after my birthday."
"Wow, Harry, that's been eight days," said Ron.
They sat quietly a few more minutes.
"Why'd you come get me?" Harry asked.
"Oh," said Ron. "Well, Professor Lupin sent us an owl, saying you sent Snuffles a letter saying everything was all right, and that Snuffles told you you can't owl him this summer, and that you hadn't, except for that. So they reckoned that something was probably up, and that the muggles probably made you write it..."
Harry nodded glumly. Then he forced a smile.
"'S okay, though," he said, hoping his smile looked convincing. Ron smiled back, so Harry figured it probably did.
"Dumbledore finished with the Burrow just this morning," Ron said happily. "Got all sorts of spells on it, enchantments, to protect you."
Harry felt another pang of guilt. The Weasleys... him being here was endangering them.
Mrs. Weasley entered the room then, with a goblet of dreamless sleep potion in her hands.
"Here you go, Harry dear," she said, giving him the goblet and a motherly smile. "Arthur apparated to Diagon Alley and got some; it takes awhile to brew."
Harry smiled at her.
She gave him another motherly smile. "Drink it all, now. Come on."
Harry tipped his head back and drank it all, eager for some dreamless sleep. Yet a part of him couldn't help hoping that he might not wake up.
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A/N: Review, if you wish.
To my reviewers: japangirlcarley24, velondra, and punkpixie87: thank you all!